


Tonight We Ride

by buschbabe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree, like a lot of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-19 21:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buschbabe/pseuds/buschbabe
Summary: McCree catches himself a break and gets a not-vacation-vacation mission from Blackwatch in Hanamura, one that's purely observe and report with no real pressure on collecting much data. Apparently the Yamato-gumi were considerin' makin' some deals involin' some particular omnics, but the lead wasn't that strong and the issue not urgent.So he spends most of his days hoppin' through the grimier bars the town has to offer, speaking with any members he can track down and eavesdroppin' on any conversations he can pluck out.That is, until he meets one devastingly handsome piece of sweet cherry pie, slammin' back shots of sake as if he were a horse after a month stint in the desert. Needless to say, he couldn't resist sittin' next to him and chattin' the man up.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> title may change, also am probably gonna edit this entire thing like a mad man everytime i post a chapter bc im never satisfied  
> xoxo gossip girl
> 
> i've had this shitty idea running through my head 24/7 since i bought overwatch over a year ago, and im finally bothering to write it down bc maybe then ill get some peace from these IDIOTS

Looking back, if Jesse was bein' honest, truth be told he hadn't really given much of a damn about Deadlock. They were a paycheck, not his family. His family was miles away from there. Most of the bastards were damn near scum and hell, he was damn near scum himself at the time. But, they had given him a job and picked him up off the street. They dusted some dirt off and set him to work, givin' him a wage and a shitty room in a shitty apartment block with shittier roommates. He was mostly just bidin' his time and savin' his paychecks, waitin' for the day that he could afford a ticket outta there with enough money in his pocket to sustain himself 'til he found something a bit more practical. Until he found something where he could afford to send more than a couple hundred dollars a month back home to his Ma. He was damn near that ticket too before Blackwatch busted in the warehouse doors and gunned down half the men there. 

So no, Jesse didn't give much of a damn about Deadlock, but by God was he gonna let anyone stop him when he was so close to gettin' away. Blackwatch was gonna have to tear him outta that rotten shithole and he was gonna put up a god damn fight. He took out three agents before one nicked him on his shoulder, causin' him to injure six more before they restrained him and knocked him out cold. He woke up to the sound of muffled voices and a door openin', with a head pounding and arms aching in their restraints. His bullet wound throbbed in his shoulder almost in sync with the curses of a man outside. 

An angry looking man in a beanie had sat down across from him, spreading his legs out comfy and leaning back. Didn't speak a word to Jesse at first, just came and stood in front of him. Sized him up, Jesse cursin' him out the whole time, demandin' answers and spittin' some nonsense about rights. He told Jesse his name was Reyes, he worked for Blackwatch, an organization under Overwatch that did the dirty work that the public couldn't know about. Told him he admired his shooting, wanted to offer him a job. Took Jesse a little while to agree to it, for his anger to cool down and logic to catch up to him. He was no fool, he wasn't gonna die for a gang he could give a rat's ass about.

So far, taking the job seemed to be the best damn decision he'd ever made. Like hell Deadlock woulda ever done flown him overseas to a whole other country, let alone set him up in something higher than business class. By God they woulda never provided him with anything that even remotely resembled an open service bar like in first class. The only reason this here aircraft wasn't already run dry of their most expensive whiskey was due to Reyes cutting him off when he started to notice the glaze over in Jesse's eyes. Told him he'd prefer Jesse not gettin' arrested for drunken disorderly when they got there. 

He was happy with the perks, and with the money he gotta send home. Even though he knew he was never gonna be able to go home again. Not like his Ma would even let him through the door in the first place. Despite that, even after the few years he'd been there, something still wasn't settlin' right in his gut. And Jesse McCree, a man who luck seemed to stick to like flies to a cow, was all about trusting his gut instinct. So yeah, he was still a little bit skeptical, but that wasn't gonna stop him from enjoying his time while it lasted. 'Cause his gut was tellin' him that time might not be much longer. 

The two were off on a rather easy mission, one focused on intelligence gathering with an open ended deadline. No targets, no quick in and outs. Just good ol' fashion nose to the ground information-seekin'. About as close to a vacation as Blackwatch allowed, and the only reason he was able to even get on the ticket was because Reyes wanted to congratulate him on his previous mission. It had gone off without a hitch, the target taken out and the stage set near perfection of simply a heart attack. Guy even told Jesse everything he needed to know without more than a few minutes of convincin'. Only reason Reyes was there with him was 'cause apparently someone higher up in Overwatch thought he needed a vacation too. Something Jesse wouldn't argue against given the stress lines all over his face. 

Reyes had briefed him before they left, apparently they were going in to see what they could find out about the Yamato-gumi just outside of Hanamura, Japan. Mostly trying to find ways they could worm into the organization, see if anyone knew anything about some Omnic arms deals supposedly going on. Reyes was gonna be checking out the higher class part of town, since his Japanese was better and of the two of them, he was the one who seemed to know how to act more sophisticated. Or at least more sophisticated than a certain chain-smoking, tattooed Cowboy. McCree's job was to scope out the grimier bars and night clubs which could hold some lower ranking members who might be willing to rant about their bosses after a bottle or two of liquor. Or who might not think that some foreigner would ever be able to pick up on their private conversations. Jesse was by no means fluent in Japanese, but he could understand a good jist of most conversations. He also brushed up a bit before leavin' with a more intensive language learning regime than he would've liked. 

But you wouldn't catch him complainin', he was going to savour this time in the sun if it killed him. Jesse wasn't ashamed to admit that this work was exhaustin' and being able to get away and pretend for a lil' while was gonna be a treat. Especially with no pressure to show results on this mission. 

The loud speakers came on, interuptin' his thoughts to let the plane know they were landing within minutes. Standin' up when the plane rolled to a stop mighta let Jesse in on the fact that he could still feel the whiskey in his system, and begrudingly thanked Reyes in his head for stoppin' him, otherwise he mighta had to ask the staff to bring him a wheelchair outta there. Reyes gave him a smirk, knowing exactly what Jesse was thinking. 

The two made it outta the gate without much hassle, other than some strange looks at McCree in with his cowboy boots and carry-on duffle bag. Especially considerin' he was walkin' beside a freshly shaved Reyes in a rather expensive lookin' suit and a three-tiered suitcase clackin' behind him. He reckoned the strange looks were warranted. The two made a strange pair. When they made it through all the red tape procedures that come along with flying internationally, they stopped just shy of where they had to split ways. Gabe had to go to the rental car service, pick up some shiny sportscar. Jesse had to head to the taxi line outside. 

A warm smile passed between both of their faces. As much as McCree had tried not to, Blackwatch was quickly becoming family to him. He liked Reyes, liked his humour and the way he trained him. He took his job seriously, but knew how to relax outside a mission. He actually respected the man's taste in beer. Truth be told he couldn't count how many assignments the two had gone on together or the times one of them saved the other's hides, but he'd spent a good chunk of the past few years around the man and he didn't regret it. He'd learnt a lot from him, and he was glad to have him here with him. Even if the two probably weren't gonna see much of each other, he was happy Gabe at least got to take some time off too. Though he'd rather die than say it out loud, Jesse thought of him like a father figure.

Gabe slapped his hand down on Jesse's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Best of luck _manito_ , have fun. Stay careful. Don't get into too many fights. Don't eat too much.”

Jesse shook the hand off his shoulder with an eye roll before mutterin' outta “Yeah yeah, you too old man.” before Gabe turned and rolled towards a stand on the opposite side of the airport, leavin' Jesse to begin to stray for the doors. Jesse hopped his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder as he waved down a cab looking back over his shoulder at Reyes before he disappeared into a line, and the two of 'em set off on their not-vacation vacation. 

The taxi-driver enthusiastically spoke English to Jesse, prattling on about not having many American foreigners come to these parts, how they all wanna just go to Tokyo and how excited he was to have him in his cab. He ended up telling Jesse some good spots near his hotel to eat and drink, which he thanked him kindly for. Also ended up telling him some spots to avoid, that were known to be frequented by some dangerous people. By the end of the fifteen minute ride Jesse probably knew more about this man and his family than he'd ever uncover about the Yamato clan, and tipped him generously. He promised to stop by his brother's Izakaya sometime during his visit and buy the man a drink. 

He got out and thumbed through his phone to double check he was at the right address. Blackwatch had set him up with a fairly comfortable apartment, not too fancy but a hell of a lot above what he was used to on missions. More often than not McCree was hidin' out in the woods or blendin' in on the streets. He wasn't like some other members, like a certain doctor, who always needed some hoity accommodations. He walked up to the second floor, checking under the door mat of unit 213 to find a small set of keys there for him. Inside he found a furnished and clean bachelor's with a small balcony. Jesse didn't need a lot of space and this would be perfect for him. 

He heeled his shoes off before sauntering over to the kitchen and checking the fridge, finding it fully stocked with an enevelope sitting on the middle shelf filled with cash. 

“Thank you, Blackwatch,” he crooned, popping a beer outta the door. It was some Japanese brand, but he wasn't complain'. 

He took a long drag before throwing his duffle bag on the bed as he began to unpack. He figured he'd get his new place organized and walk around, do some grocery shoppin' and check out some of the places to eat the taxi driver had suggested. Maybe glance over a few of the bars in the areas the driver had warned him about. All he knew was he was in no damn rush at all, hell maybe he'd even pop to some kinda touristy shrine or castle or something tomorrow. But first, he was gonna unpack and get some food into his stomach. And probably some more beer too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is stressed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote most of this when i had the preface written, so updates this fast ain't normal. just wanted to get it posted so i would stop editing it   
> hanzo is a thirsty binch   
> enjoy

“Hanzo, prepare the money. Genji, go to bed. Sleep off the booze.”

Hanzo could feel his dragons itching at his skin, starting a slow crawl. 

“We'll take care of this, Sparrow. Don't worry.” 

Sojiro placed his arm around his drunken son's neck, bringing their foreheads together. Genji's eyes were glazed with liquor and stormy with anxiety, but Sojiro gave his colourful hair a quick ruffle.

“I'm sorry father, I didn't mean to. He was hurting her, I couldn't stand by.”

“It's okay son, I said don't worry. It's handled. Go sleep. There is nothing for you to do now.”

Genji brought his arms up to hug his father, pulling back after a little longer than an adult should hug another. Because that was what Genji was now, an adult. Yet here his father continues to treat him as if he were a boy. 

Genji stood up quickly, obvious in the slight wobble of his stand that he'd have a hard time remembering much of tonight in the morning. He stumbled through a too-deep bow, whispering a slurred thanks and 'I love you' to his father before slipping past the guards out the door. He didn't look at Hanzo. Sojiro followed his son out with a soft smile, as if he was amused by Genji's youthful misadventure. As if Genji and his friends hadn't just beat some goon from Yamato-gumi in an alley outside of one of their bars within an inch of his life. As if Genji hasn't nearly started a large-scale war. As if Genji was just fooling around with women and not almost killing men from rival gangs in the street like dogs. Genji dying his hair, skipping out on lessons is one thing. Genji blowing thousands a night on women and booze is forgiveable. Genji endangering the clan, no matter what his reasons may be was entirely another. This is what happens when you let his mistakes pile up without consequences or discipline. 

Sojiro turned slowly to Hanzo, his soft smile evaporating into a steelier gaze. Obviously he and his father were not on the same page. 

“Hanzo, what are you doing still sitting? Get up, get the money.” 

“Yes father.” _How much will it be this time?_

“We don't have much time, you need to get to Yamato-Castle quickly.”

“Yes father.” _Why? To be a replacement compensation for my brother if the money isn't enough?_

“I'll call the Oyabun from Yamato, we can clear this up still. If you go now, Hanzo.”

“Yes father,” 

Hanzo nodded and got up, his shoulder burning warm. He was glad he was wearing clothing that covered his tattoo or he knew his father would chastise him for his lack of control. The dragons tended to snap their jaws open and close, sometimes drool when he got too worked up. Almost like feral dogs. He could feel them crawling over his skin now. With a more reformed bow than his drunken brother, he turned towards the other side of the room. He felt like a custodian, always cleaning up whatever mess Genji seemed to get himself into at the bequest of his father. Last week he broke an expensive bottle of champagne at a bar, the one before he had a pregnancy scare with an opportunistic woman. The month before Genji found himself nearly arrested for cheating at arcade games. It was a never ending game of clean up, with Hanzo being the one forced to do it for him. He loved his brother, but he loathed fixing his problems. Problems arisen from situations Hanzo would never put himself in, situations his father would chop a finger off of him for even thinking of as a possibility. Yet here he went again, storming out into the night to pay off a debt that would not have existed if Genji had not been born so reckless. If Genji had an ounce of respect or moderation beaten into him like Hanzo had. 

He made his way to his father's safe, hastily slapping in the code. One shelf lay full of wrapped money, another filled with paper documents and a third with a handgun. He grabbed fistfuls of the pre-counted bills, placing them into a briefcase that lay behind him inside. 

“How much, father?”

“10 million.”

His hands twitched. His dragons clawed down his chest and inched up his neck. 

“Understood.”

He filled it, bringing one of his hands up to squeeze the side of his neck attached to his tattooed shoulder. He wouldn't let them up there, his father would see. The dragon moved out of the way, jaws unclenching and clenching again, irritated with this restriction. 

“You'll find a car waiting outside for you. And Hanzo,”

“Yes father?”

“If you do not do this right, you risk endangering our clan. The whole clan. Do not disappoint me. Or there will be repercussions.”

He feels drool dripping down his chest. 

“Understood, father.”

He bowed once more to his father before heading out the door. Hanzo was, the least to say, livid. Of course this was on him. Of course Genji would receive no punishment for this, no repercussions, no slap on the wrist. He will wake up the next day and go out again, do the same thing with an easy mind. The men he passed in the hallway didn't dare make eye contact with him as he stormed through the castle, his metallic plated feet clicking loudly on the ground. Usually he made no sound, but at this moment even the small relief of childishly stomping his feet helped the dragons settle slightly and the men knew to keep their mouth shut unless they wanted him to relieve his anger in another manner. 

When he got to the front gate, there was a car, as his father had told him. A member held open the door for him, allowing him to slip into the back where he sat fuming alone. Just because Genji would not be taking over the clan does not mean that one day he will not also work for his family. His behaviour, if it was any other member, would be punished immediately with near deadly consequences depending on their rank. They would not be sent to bed with a hug and a softly spoken 'don't worry'. He was no longer a child, not even a teenager. Genji was a grown man and he continued to act as a spoiled brat. Hanzo had hoped once he got out of high school that he would grow up, that college would mature him. However, Genji dropped out after a week. He didn't like the structure, didn't like being told what to do and when to be places. 

The driver silently took off without so much as a word behind him, having presumably been informed on where he was to take Hanzo. He assumed that his father had let him know when he told him to bring the car to the door. Hanzo placed the briefcase beside him, carefully undoing his shirt and freeing his left arm. His dragons sparked, his skin flushed red where they crawled. Hopefully by the time they reached Yamato Castle they will have settled. He did not want to enter a negotiation with them riled up. Someone would end up in their jaws by the end of the night if he did.

He flicked the windows down slightly, letting in the cooler night air, hoping the blowing wind would ease the two. 

Hanamura was beautiful at nighttime. He wished he could see the city more often instead of being crammed in the castle, doing the paperwork his father thought him necessary to learn in order to take over. He scoffed. Hilarious. He does the groups taxes while Genji drinks away their fortune. As exhausted as he was being the delivery boy for his father in this incident, he did appreciate the little bit of freedom he was being entrusted. It was a rare day for him to leave the castle. Closing his eyes, he laid his head back, taking in the cool air and quiet rumbling of the city outside to calm the three of them down. 

By the time they got to Yamato Castle, the dragons had retained their original places on his arm. He no longer burned with frustration, it was more a gentle warmth radiating from his arm instead of the heat of dragon fire. He quickly did his shirt back up when he began to recognize the landmarks of the city that told him they would be arriving soon. He did not put the backseat window back up until the driver buzzed for them to be let in at the gates. 

Yamato castle was much smaller than his family's, stretching only a handful of buildings behind a much taller wall. Their clan dealt mostly with small loans with steeper than legal interest. They also held a few clubs downtown that more often than not, left customers with bloated bills. Luckily even Genji was wise enough to stay far away from them. Unfortunately any savings on the bill he spent on more booze. As the door opened, Hanzo also noted that the grounds seemed to be slightly miskept on the eastern half of the estate. A building looked particularly in need of upkeep with an unruly bit of landscaping. Hanzo put it off to the groups inferiority. 

The car rolled up towards the main house, slowing to a stop as the front doors opened and a few armed men stepped outside. They seemed to be waiting for Hanzo. His dragons wriggled slightly, but calmed just as quickly as the driver opened his door. With the briefcase back in hand, Hanzo stepped out, head held high. He nodded to the two men. 

“Welcome, Shimada. This way.”

He followed, taking in the older building. While his father frequented other syndicates often, Hanzo unfortunately found it a rare occurrence to do so. The interior was similar to their family's one, but much more dated. There was dust lining the odd angled corners of the hallways, slight discolouration in the paper walls along the bottom. Some walls seem stained with hand oils. Even the men in front of him were slightly underwhelming. One was short and had cat hair clinging to the legs of his suit, while the other had an off colour thread tying a button onto his shirt. 

Disgraceful. 

How could Genji put them in a position where they needed to humble themselves to such a lower organization. He felt sick with a spike of anger.

The two men didn't look back at Hanzo or speak a say a word to him after they entered. It wasn't util they reached a room deep within the house that the two positioned themselves on either side of the door, staring ahead as Hanzo stepped forward to open it. Inside he found a scrawny man, age evident on his face and neck, arms crossed at his table. 

“Please, come in.”

Hanzo stepped inside. He knew the face of the man from one's his father had shown him. This was their Oyabun. He gave a deep bow, both hands grasping the briefcase of money in his hands. He stepped forward, placing it gently on the man's desk. 

“For the hospital fees.”

The man raised his eyebrow.

“And pain and suffering brought about by our family to yours over this unfortunate accident.”

The man nodded, pulling the money towards him. He checked inside, nodded again and called one of the men outside in.

“Take this. You know where to put it,” Yamato declared, handing it over to the man now exiting the room. It had been the short one. He turned back to Hanzo, his hands crossed across the desk, “As much as we appreciate this monetary ... gift. I think the both of us know that there is still some things needed to be worked out about this ordeal.”

“Yes,” Hanzo nodded, walking over to sit in front of Yamato as the oyabun extended his hand to the empty spot on the floor across from him, “This ... unfortunate accident. The member responsible was unaware of who the man encountered was. He was inebriated. An appropriate punishment is being enforced.”

Yamato laughed. 

“Please, Shimada. I am no fool. My men say it was that brother of yours.”

One of the dragons snapped it's mouth. 

“Please, Yamato. As childish as my brother may be, even he would never cause such undue harm to your organization. We have too much respect for you.” 

“I have several men who claim he threw the first punch.”

“Perhaps your men had a bit too much to drink.”

“They said green hair.”

“Many Shimada members have died hair, they must have mistook the colour.”

“Do not make me repeat myself about taking me as a fool.”

“Do not make me repeat myself about my brother's involvement.”

Yamato hands uncrossed at the table as he glared down towards Hanzo. Hanzo's dragon's began their slow crawl across his skin anew. The eldest Shimada was the one to break the silence. 

“The instigator is being appropriately punished. Expect a package within the next few days with further compensation and proof of that punishment. I respectfully hope that these gifts displays our ... regret at our member's poor actions and our desire to continue our budding relations in the future.”

Yamato glared through Hanzo, a heavy sigh eventually breaking his gaze. He crossed his arms once more and nodded. 

“Thank you ... For your apology. And gifts. They are adequate.”

Hanzo nodded. He wanted to curse the man out for not keeping his members leashed to their own clubs. He wanted to berate him for allowing his members to carelessly mistreat their employees on the street. He wanted to let the dragons gouge chunks of his flesh away for thinking he deserved any compensation at all. 

“I take it that we are done then?” 

“Yes, Shimada.”

Hanzo stood up, bowing deeply once more. Hands now empty, and dragons once more roaming his skin, he began to walk towards the door. Yamato calling his first name stopped him in his tracks. He turned to the elder man once more, locking eyes with his steely gaze. 

“One day that brother of yours is going to do something to someone much more powerful than us, and no amount of gifts or compensation is going to save his life or your clan.”

Hanzo felt drool pooling down to his finger tips. His arm throbbed.

“One could say the same about your members and beating their women in the streets.”

Hanzo turned quickly after bowing once more to avoid the look on Yamato's face, stalking out of the room. His feet clicked along the floor. His dragon's wanted out. They wanted to break the weak support beams of the crumbling buildings of this decrepit slice of a so called 'castle'. But he knew that was not an option. At least for now it wasn't. Now he needed to get into that car, he needed to get home and he needed to avoid the lecture his father was going to grind into him for leaving that room on such a sour note. He was not sorry though. For as mad as he could get at Genji, he was his brother. Yamato was lucky he felt restrained enough to keep the dragons tied to his skin instead of unleashing them on his desperate excuse of a Castle, bringing it and the man himself to the ground in ashes. 

He reached the front door, barking at the driver to get in and start driving. The man hurriedly put out the cigarette he had been smoking, stuffing the butt in his pocket before getting into the car as Hanzo had already opened his door himself. 

“Get us home. Now.”

The driver nodded through the mirror at him. 

He felt shame and embarrassment, both for his actions and for the ones of his brother. He felt dread for the reaction of his father when he got home. His arm still burned from the seemingly ever-present rage burning through his body. 

When they got back, Hanzo nearly ripped the door open. His father had been waiting for him, fury burning behind his eyes. 

“I told you to be respectful.”

Hanzo stopped infront of his father. 

“I was.”

_Slap._

“Do not stand in front of me and lie to my face. You are lucky my money and the fingers from one of our lower members was enough to satisfy Yamato. Did you wish a different end to this? Did you wish Tanaka's sacrifice of his fingers in vain? Your comment almost cost me another ten million yen. I expect more from you. I expect respect from you. Maybe I gave you too much responsibility. I do not expect this mistake to be made again.”

Hanzo could feel his dragon slinking up his neck again, it's mouth audibly snapping now and it's drool mixing in with the sweat from it's heat. Sojiro started at his neck and scoffed, looking away.

“You disappoint me. You can't even keep your dragons contained. I don't know what I expected of you.”

The dragon seemed to seek out his cheek. Sojiro shook his head, clear in his displeasure. 

“Sorry, father.”

Sojiro stuck his son with one more glare before leaving Hanzo alone at the doorstep. He could not bring his eyes to the men stationed at the door, or his driver. He instead raised his head, tried to calm his heart and clacked his way to his room. He passed Genji's room on the way, the gentle snoring coming through the door helping guide the dragons back down to his arm. When he reached his room, he stalked immediately to the cabinet that held his more expensive bottles of sake. Tonight needed to be drank away. 

He popped open a particularly old bottle, one that put him back quite severely in terms of expense. Almost on par in cost as one of Genji's nights out. The first glass was downed nearly immediately before he filled his second. He sat heavily down at his table, knocking the second drink back. 

Genji, Yamato, his father. One at a time he could handle. One thing he could work his way through. All three seemed to cause him to nearly meltdown from stress. His dragons hadn't been this unruly and this mobile in a long time, he usually is much better at restricting them to his arm. Rarely have they ever found themselves further than the original tattoo outside of training. The entire situation riled him enough to let them drift. With his second glass finished, he felt calmer. The booze numbed his nerves, placated the beasts. 

The third glass brought his mind towards his brother, of how envious he got at times. When Genji messed up, his father hugged him and took care of the problem. When Hanzo stepped even slightly out of line, it was nothing but anger and aggressive correction. Genji spent nearly every day out in the town, drinking or gaming or socializing with friends their father allowed him to make. Friends weren't allowed to Hanzo, they could pose a security risk. Hanzo wasn't supposed to need friends. He wasn't supposed to spend a single day outside the castle. Drinking for him had to be alone, in his room. Genji got to go to clubs, flirt with any person he pleased. The few times Hanzo has expressed interest in another, his father guts the relationship or the person as quickly as possible. Hanzo isn't allowed to be childish or youthful, he is supposed to already have the elegance and actions of a man thrice his age. Sojiro expects him to be him and has expected so since Hanzo could talk. 

Hanzo reflected back on the time he and his brother attempted to sneak out of the castle when they were younger; he 10 and Genji barely 7. Genji got lightly scolded and sent off to the kitchen for a snack, Hanzo got an hour lecture about how as the heir apparent he was never to act so brashly again. 

The fourth glass of sake brought back the rage from early. Hanzo was tired. He was tired of being stuck. He was tired of the expectations. He just wanted one night, one god damn moment of letting himself feel loose and without pressure. One night when the entirety of the Shimada line and organization wasn't weighing down on his back like the world upon Atlas'. He wanted a vacation, but one doesn't really get that from your family. 

Hanzo sighed, getting up and pouring a fifth glass before walking towards the window in his room. He was drunk now. He sipped forlornly as he gazed at the visible buildings over the Castle walls. He could scale them in a matter of seconds, no one would even notice him. He could get out, spend a night on the town, play around like Genji. He could hop into a bar, drink until he couldn't stand. Maybe just dance until he couldn't stand. Find someone to make him unable to stand. The idea caused the dragons to constrict around his arm. This was a common fantasy of his.

No one would know. He could be in and out in a matter of an hour. Maybe a few hours. Maybe he'd show up in the morning. His day didn't start until 8am, tomorrow was a Sunday. No one would check on him until then. No one would expect him to leave. The plan was starting to feel plausible to him now, liquor eroding his senses. 

He downed his fifth glass. 

_No one would notice. It'd be fine._

He nervously checked behind him to the closed door of his room. 

_A few bars, a few more drinks. One night out._

He placed his glass back on the table in his room. 

_Just a bit of conversation with someone else, a one time thing._

He silently opened his closet, pulling out a rather well-fitting and casual yukata. He shimmied it on, taking off his shirt and pants and metalic knee braces. Turning to the window, he stopped. 

Shoes. He needed shoes. They were at the front of the house. Except an old pair tucked at the back of his closet. 

He bent on his knees to find them. More formal than practical, but that didn't matter. He slipped them on. Turned once more to the window. 

_No one will notice. It'll be fine._

Out he slipped into the night, plopping down on the wooden porch without even a creek. He stalked through the garden, behind buildings and up to the wall without a single guard noticing. Despite being five drinks in, he quite nimbly crawled up the wall and over. His shoes silently hit the ground outside. 

Now what? Where would he even go?

A bar? A bar. He was going to go to a bar. His heart spiked, a grin broke out on his face. This was foolish. 

But which one? Maybe he would browse, peruse his options a little until he spotted some company worthy of chatting up. Someone who seemed like they wouldn't mind chatting him up. Feeling him up. 

He stumbled down the streets for a few blocks until the tell-tale sounds of drunken men filled his vicinity. A few Izakaya's lined the streets, some names he recognized from overheard conversations of the guards speaking about their nights off when they weren't aware Hanzo was nearby. A name in particular sparked his memory, one he believed Genji had mentioned at on point. Seemed appropriate. 

He glanced inside, seeing a few available seats. The bartender greated him, asking if he was by himself or if he was expecting someone. He answered alone and she waved her hand at the seat next to the wall. 

He ordered a drink and sat, glancing over at the other patrons. There were two empty seats between him and a couple with a third friend with them, next to them a man by himself closer to his father's age.The group of three seemed too invested in each other, and closer to Genji's age than his own. He'd give this bar the drink, and if the empty seats don't tempt someone in, he'll try his luck at a different one. 

A few sips and the anxiety started to worm it's way into his bones, he really shouldn't be out. What if he bumped into someone he knew? He took a longer sip. What if they knew Genji? A longer sip. What if they knew his father?

He rested his head in his left hand, sleeve rolling down to expose his tattoo. The bartender quickly focused on the other patrons, one half of the couple seemed to cut off laughing suddenly. Maybe this outing was a mistake, instead of alone in his room, he is alone at a bar. How is this better? It is better. Why is he thinking of this? His night out is supposed to be free from these kinds of thoughts, free of Genji and his father. He ruffled his hair in agitation. He needed a heavier distraction than just sake apparently. 

“'Scuse me there, darling,” a smooth voice drawled behind him, plunking their noisy self down on the free seat beside him, “Couldn't help myself lookin' at that damn fine work ya got on your arm there. I've got a few of my own. Wouldn't mind seein' a bit more of yours either, if you catch my drift.”

Hanzo stayed glued to his seat, the smile the American let out was near devastating. Obviously American from that hat. His eyes roamed down. And boots. When the stranger's face fell, he felt sorry for the loss.

“Oh shit, sorry. Is English no good? I know a tad of Japanese, but trust me sugar it'll be harder for ya to understand me that way. Like a bottle tossed into a paper shredder. Noisy and damn near painful to listen to.”

“English is fine,” Hanzo stumbled out, far too pleased then he should be for the grin coming back to the man's face.

“Perfect. Those words are music to my ears. Name is Smith, Jesse Smith,” he held out his hand expectantly.

“Business or pleasure?” Hanzo returned with a raised brow, carefully putting his arm down and crossing his right one over to take the man's hand. 

“Pure pleasure brought me here,” the smile stretched from ear to ear, “Just came in a few weeks ago. Wanted to see the beauties this country had to offer and I think I mighta just found a god damn world wonder. By far you are one of the most gorgeous thing I've seen since I've come here, sweetheart.”

Hanzo was not expecting that. So forthcoming. He turned his head to the side and grasped his drink, right hand still locked into Jesse's. 

“Then you haven't seen much of it.”

“Now aren't ya humble! Darlin' there ain't no reason for you to deny it, you look like a smart man and we both know that you are like a tall glass of cold water on a humid day,” Jesse let go of his hand, chuckling with a shake of his head, turnin' to get the bar tender's attention, “I'll take two of whatever this man here is having, and one for him on top.”

Hanzo went to protest, before Jesse sicked that smile back on him. 

“Now darlin', I don't like introducin' ya as 'this man'. Could ya do me the kindness of tellin' me what to call ya?”

“Hanzo.” He said that too quickly. He shouldn't be giving his real name. “Hanzo Tanaka.”

“Name almost as gorgeous as you are,” Hanzo crooned, “Now, tell me a bit about yerself Tanaka, what do ya do for a living? Got any family? Friends? A partner? Even if you do, darlin' just do me a favour and lie.”

“Office work. Taxes,” Hanzo chuckled bitterly to himself at how mundane that sounded, “Brother and father, not many. And no.”

He looked up at Jesse, the bartender setting the drinks down in front of them. Neither of them broke eye contact.

“No partner.” Hanzo practically hummed out.

McCree let out a low whistle before he brought his drink up, holding it out as if waiting to cheers Hanzo.

“To being single.”

Hanzo smirked, grabbing his old drink and holding it up. The two clinked glasses, both tossing them back.


End file.
